


It’s a Wonderful Starling Christmas Carol

by GertrudeMugler



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertrudeMugler/pseuds/GertrudeMugler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve in Starling City and the Arrow is out to stop a dangerous gun buy from happening. In the process of taking out the criminals, Oliver is knocked unconscious. He falls into a dream state and imagines a world where Oliver Queen never returned to Starling City. He is forced to confront many truths about the life he has chosen to lead and his feelings for his loved ones, particularly Felicity Smoak. Guiding Oliver on his journey is someone whom he never thought to see again, the one who helped him begin his journey towards becoming the Arrow: Shado.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s a Wonderful Starling Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the world of season 3 of Arrow, though before Oliver's devastating encounter with Ra's al Ghul. It's an admittedly rosy, revisionist view of Arrow season 3 and mostly serves as wish fulfillment. I may need to further revise this, but I wanted to get it out here so I could figure out if it's any good. This is also my first attempt at fan fiction. Ever. (So be kind!)
> 
> So I appreciate you for taking the time to read my story. Hope you enjoy it!

“Okay, Oliver,” prodded Diggle. “Spill it. You’re brooding more than usual.” His mellow voice crackled through Oliver’s earpiece.  
  
Oliver exhaled slowly. Too warm to snow, yet cold enough that he could see his breath. Outside the crumbling warehouse, a fine mist fell from the sky.  
“I haven’t been – can we just keep our heads”–  
  
“In the game?” Diggle finished. “Yeah, I know. Look, I’ve known you long enough by now to know when something is eating at you. We’re here for you.”  
  
Felicity piped in. “Always. No matter what. Besides,” she continued. “The buy isn’t supposed to happen for another 45 minutes anyway. And Roy’s covering the perimeter.”  
  
Oliver gritted his teeth. “It’s just that…this year has been so hard. We’ve lost so much. And it’s Christmas Eve, and we’re sitting here in the dark”–  
  
“And the rain,” interjected Roy.  
  
Oliver paused, measuring his words. “My mom, Sara, Tommy, all the people killed by Slade’s army, the earthquake…I feel like I’m doing more harm than good…”  
Perched up in the rafters of the huge abandoned warehouse, a relic of Starling City’s more prosperous days, Oliver stared out into the darkness. He felt like it was staring back into him and a surge of despair welled up. He inhaled sharply and forced himself to focus. Down below him, men waited.  
  
“Sometimes, I think that maybe it would have been better if I’d never come home.” Immediately, Oliver regretted the words, thinking of Felicity. _This is why it’s better to keep your thoughts to yourself_ , he chastised himself silently.  
  
“Oh, Oliver,” said Felicity softly. Oliver could picture her, sitting in front of her monitor, bathed in its cold light, her fingers fiddling with her necklace as she always did when she was worried. “Please don’t ever think that.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “I just can’t help but think how many people would still be alive if I”–  
  
“Oliver,” said Felicity sharply. “Don’t let yourself drown in all the what ifs and maybes. No one knows what will happen.” She paused. “Your return made a difference for me. And John. And Roy. So stop beating yourself up”–  
  
“Uh, guys?” Roy popped in. “Hate to break up the group therapy when it’s going so well, but I’ve got movement on the southeast corner. Dig, you ought to see it in a second.”  
  
“Got it.” John sounded cool and collected. “Looks like a large SUV. The guns have to be in there.”  
  
Oliver shifted his position slightly, readying himself. A small cascade of rust drifted past his vision and his nostrils flared slightly from the metallic tang in the air. These rafters were not terribly stable. He would need to be careful for weak points.  
“All right, everyone,” said Oliver firmly. “We need to see them making the sale. Listen for names, anything that might lead to their source.”  
  
The SUV seemed to appear out of nowhere. It rolled up to the warehouse’s enormous open doorway, paused a moment, and then drove into the cavernous interior, tires crunching over gravel and broken glass. Headlights cut twin tunnels of light into the black. Two figures stepped into the light. Despite being far above them, Oliver could tell they were armed. Guns tucked into the waistbands of their jeans.  
Engine still running, three figures emerged from the vehicle. Oliver was fairly confident they were also carrying guns.  
“Arsenal, John, be warned: they all seem to be armed. We’ve got guns and money here. Won’t take much for things to go south.”  
  
“Copy that.” Roy and Diggle both replied.  
  
The listening devices Oliver had placed below earlier crackled into life.  
“-got the goods? Ain’t got no time to waste”-  
“You got the money? Good. Let’s make a deal.”  
One man opened the trunk of the SUV. “AR-15 assault rifles. Motherfucker won’t know what hit him.”  
  
“Jesus,” Oliver hissed.  
  
“I’ve got movement out here, by the warehouse entrance.” Diggle sounded worried. “There are two more guys, maybe three, outside. Armed. I don’t like this.”  
  
“Me either.” Oliver sounded grim. “Felicity, call SCPD”-  
  
“Already on it. Gentlemen, be careful.”  
  
Roy spoke again. “Almost to the entrance. Definitely three of them. They’re drawing weapons. I’m taking them out.”  
Cloaked in the shadows, Roy fired three small darts at the men from a small crossbow on his wrist. Two men clapped their necks and then dropped limply to the ground. The third reached at his shoulder blade and then slumped down, but not before he fired a shot off wildly.  
  
“Goddammit,” snarled Oliver. The men below him froze, then whirled towards the warehouse entrance, reaching for their weapons. One man snatched at the assault rifle.  
  
“Get ready, everyone! Firing the flashbangs!” Oliver checked his cable, then raised his bow and fired off an arrow at the SUV. A moment later, there was a blinding flash and a tremendous boom. He slid down the cable into the fray. About 5 feet from the ground, his cable went slack and Oliver crashed to the ground. Seconds later, a piece of rusted metal rafter smashed down only a few feet away. Smoke surrounded him, the sound of men shouting, gunfire echoing. Visibility was too poor to reliably use the stun darts Cisco had sent him from Star Labs. He shook off his dizziness, focusing on a man ten feet from him, firing wildly. Oliver whipped his cable at the man, knocking him to the ground. The gun went tumbling away. He heard movement behind him and he spun around. “Look out!” someone screamed. And the world dissolved into a blaze of white light…

Sticks. He was looking at sticks. He blinked once, then again. He inhaled deeply, and became aware of a pungent scent. Not sticks. Pine needles. He was lying on the ground in a forest. Rolling slowly onto his back, he squinted at the sunlight filtering through the tall pines reaching towards a cloudless blue sky. His breath made a faint mist. He shivered.  
  
And then sat up in shock and fear as he realized where he was. Oliver was back on the island. Lian Yu.  
  
“What the fu-“ he breathed softly. Gingerly, Oliver stood, checking himself for injuries, but he seemed unhurt. His hood, his weapons were gone. He was dressed in jeans and simple t-shirt.  
  
“Admit it. You missed this place.” It was a woman’s voice, gentle, almost musical. A voice he never thought to hear again…  
Oliver spun around but he already knew whom he would see.  
“Shado.”  
  
She stood there, barefoot in the pine needles, clad in a simple pale grey shift, dappled in golden sunlight like drops of honey. Shado’s long dark hair tumbled loose over her bare shoulders. A breeze drifted past Oliver and he shivered again but Shado didn’t seem to notice.  
“Ni Hao, Oliver.” Shado smiled at him and he felt a heaviness twist in his throat. Memories of loved ones lost: Shado, Tommy, his mother, Sara…so many gone. Because of him.  
  
“You can’t be here, Shado,” Oliver managed finally. “This,” he gestured to his surroundings, “isn’t real. I’m dreaming, right? Or”-  
  
“Yes, Oliver. This is a dream,” Shado confirmed. “I’m not really here. And we’re not really on the island.”  
  
“Then why”– Oliver was puzzled.  
  
“Think of me as your guide. Your own personal Clarence.” She smiled gently.  
  
Oliver frowned, even more confused. “Who?”  
  
Shado laughed. “You’ve never seen ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’? Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore…oh, it’s one of my favorite American movies. You really ought to watch it.”  
  
“I guess we’re not here to discuss classic American cinema.” Oliver looked up at the sky, then back at Shado. “So, I’m dreaming and you’re my guide. To what? Show me that my life isn’t so terrible?” He laughed bitterly. “Well, you’re wasting your time. Because my life right now, does in fact, suck. Wherever I go, whatever I do, the people I love are hurt or killed. I’ve failed Starling City. The Arrow has brought only death and destruction. I’m a killer.” He turned away, staring at the waves crashing on the distant shore.  
  
Shado was next to Oliver.  
“Can you honestly believe that your presence has made no difference to your sister Thea? John Diggle, Roy Harper, Quentin Lance, even Barry Allen? And what of Felicity?” Shado looked into Oliver’s eyes. “Your heart is aching and your soul is in turmoil”–  
  
“I’m not even sure I have a soul anymore after all the things I’ve done,” Oliver whispered.  
  
“Of course you do,” said Shado sharply. “You wouldn’t be hurting so much if you didn’t. Continue to wallow in self pity and you’ll drown. Let your friends in. They’re standing beside you – don’t push them away.”  
  
Suddenly, they were surrounded by swirling mist. Oliver heard Shado speak before she disappeared from view. “Let me show you something.”

Sterling roses, dozens of them, filled a vase on a wide round table. Some of their delicate lavender petals had begun to fall, scattered on the table and floor below. They were Oliver’s mother’s favorite flower. He looked up, recognized the twin curving staircases, the rich woodwork. The Queen family mansion. His home, once.  
  
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a scream. Oliver tensed, ready to spring into action.  
  
“Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere! You think just because you fuck my mother that you can tell me what to do – “  
  
“Now that is quite enough, young lady,” replied a calm, elegant voice. A man’s voice, with a British accent.  
Walter Steele descended the stairs. Behind him was a young woman struggling in the firm grip of a man in a white jacket.  
  
“I’m not going to any goddamned rehab and you can’t make me! I don’t need any help! I’m totally fine!” Oliver was shocked to see that the furious young woman was his own sister, Thea. But not the Thea he knew. She’d always been a skinny kid, but now she was gaunt, her hair wild and unkempt, dark smudges beneath her reddened eyes. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor and her mouth twisted into an ugly sneer.  
  
Walter’s eyes were filled with sadness. “It pains me to see you suffering like this, Thea. You were always such a happy child. I know you’ve experienced so much loss for someone so young, with your father and brother gone. But you’re all your mother has left"-  
  
Thea lunged at Walter, breaking free of guard’s grasp. “Don’t you dare talk about my father!” she snarled. “You’ll never replace him.” The guard pinned her arms behind her back and she roared in frustration.  
  
“I never wanted to,” replied Walter softly. “Mr. Diggle, if you please.” Walter seemed weary and deflated. John Diggle seemingly appeared out of nowhere and helped subdue Thea’s thrashing. A flicker of sympathy flitted briefly across his face; then it was gone, replaced by a cool dispassion.  
  
“I hate you,” seethed Thea as she was half-dragged, half-carried past Walter.  
“Where’s my mother?” she demanded as they moved towards the front door. “Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Mom? Mom!” Then the door closed and they were gone.  
  
“Goodbye, Thea,” whispered Walter.  
  
Oliver could only stare in shocked silence. Finally, he spoke. “My sister…how could this happen?”  
  
Shado stood beside him. “You weren’t here. Your return gave her hope to make a better future for herself.”  
  
Something made Oliver turn around and he saw a woman in a nurse’s scrubs gesturing urgently at Walter. He looked alarmed and ran up the stairs. “Moira!” he cried out.  
  
Oliver found himself looking at his mother’s bedroom door. Walter was knocking frantically but the door did not open.  
“Moira please, darling, let me in. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
The door opened a fraction. It was dim inside her room. Oliver could barely hear his mother’s voice.  
“Thea? She’s gone? I – I’m so sorry I couldn’t face her…” Moira’s voice was just above a whisper. Oliver could hear sounds coming from inside her room.  
  
“I turned on the TV and…and I saw him. And I just froze…” Moira finally opened the door wide enough and let Walter in. The only light in the room came from the television. There was a press conference for the newly elected mayor of Starling City. As Oliver got closer, he recognized the face on the screen and he became very still. His hands clenched into fists and his mouth was set in a grim line. A muscle twitched in his jaw.  
  
It was Malcolm Merlyn.  
Moira seemed transfixed in silent horror, her hand pressed to her mouth as if to suppress a scream. But she did not look away from the television.  
  
“Citizens of Starling City! It is time for us all to come together and begin healing. Our city, our home, has been broken and battered, but we will rise again from the ashes like the phoenix of old and start anew!” Merlyn’s eyes blazed with the fervency of a zealot and his broad smile seemed to show all his perfect white teeth. Oliver was reminded of a shark.  
  
Then Malcolm Merlyn’s smile faded and he became serious. “Friends, as we start to rebuild, we cannot do so without remembering the 4,723 lives that were lost in the terrifying earthquake that rocked our city and shattered our hearts. We failed them. We failed this city.” He bowed his head for a moment.  
  
Moira sank against Walter, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. “He’s a monster,” she whispered.  
Merlyn raised his head, and his eyes were bright, his smile both dazzling and reassuring. “We will remember them. And we will remember what made Starling City great and build a shining example for the entire world to see! Corruption and decay have been stripped away –“  
  
Walter turned the TV off. “That’s enough of that,” he said crisply.  
  
Moira looked up at Walter, a haunted look in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Walter, you don’t know what he’s done, what he’s capable of!” Her eyes widened. “Malcolm killed all those people. He caused the earthquake!” She gripped Walter’s arms tightly. “And I’m just as guilty! I could have stopped Malcolm, I could have warned people, I could have saved them! But I was too afraid…” She began sobbing. Walter gathered her into his arms, murmuring soothingly and smoothing her hair.  
  
“Calm yourself, darling. No one can cause earthquakes, not even Malcolm Merlyn.” Walter raised his head and nodded.  
Oliver followed Walter’s gaze towards the nurse, who was preparing a syringe. He nodded and she came towards Moira, who now looked up at the nurse’s approach.  
  
“What’s this?” Moira asked, still sniffling.  
  
“Just something to help you sleep,” said Walter quietly. Moira’s eyes widened in fear. Oliver felt his stomach twist to see his mother, once so fierce and strong, reduced to this sobbing, paranoid shadow of her former self.  
  
“Time to go,” said Shado. Mist enveloped them and Moira and Walter vanished from view.

Oliver found himself standing in the middle of a street. The pavement was cracked and uneven. Flashing red and blue lights blinded him and he blinked. Police officers milled about, bursts of light from crime scene photographers’ cameras, sirens wailing in the distance. He turned around slowly and saw that he was in the Glades.  
  
Or what was left of it. The earthquake had leveled the crumbling tenements, laid open the streets like open wounds. The ground glittered with shards of broken glass.  
  
There was a parting in the crowd briefly, and Oliver could see something on the ground. A body. No, two. He thought he saw a red hoodie and his stomach twisted again. He ran towards the scene, through the officers and detectives, though no one seemed to notice him. He stopped short at the prone figure. And he knew, before he even saw the face, he knew it was Roy. His face was oddly peaceful, as though he were only sleeping. His omnipresent red hoodie was stained darker from the wounds in his chest. At least three bullet holes. Beside Roy was a smaller form, dressed in black, curled up in the fetal position. Suddenly the whole scene was flooded with light from a helicopter above. Oliver recognized Sin, skin pale, her dark hair spiked, her eyes open and unseeing.  
  
“Jesus no.” Oliver felt sick. Shado stood beside him silently, but her dark eyes filled with sadness.  
  
“Goddammit.” It was a weary voice, worn down by so many senseless deaths like the ones before him. Quentin Lance stood over the bodies, the many crime scenes he had witnessed over the years written on his haggard face.  
  
“Hey Detective!” A young officer ran up to him. “CSI’s almost done here. Looks like your typical drive by.” Lance seemed to flinch at her casual nonchalance at the grisly scene before them.  
  
“He was trying to shield her with his body. He was trying to protect her.” Lance turned on her. “This kid was trying to make a difference.” Lance’s shoulders sagged. “I remember I arrested him a few years ago for vehicular theft. But he was trying to turn his life around. He was one of the good ones.”  
  
The officer shrugged. “Well, now he’s one of the dead ones. Besides, he was in the Glades. How good could he be?” She walked away towards one of the patrol cars.  
  
Quentin Lance’s face filled with rage; he seemed about to speak and then he closed his eyes, his features sagged and he said nothing.  
  
Oliver wanted to say something to comfort the detective, but he knew Lance would not hear him. He blinked, and then they were no longer in the Glades. Quentin Lance sat at his kitchen table in his cramped, shabby apartment. Before him was a bottle of scotch and a gun. The bottle was unopened and Quentin looked at it with longing. He was calling someone on his phone.  
  
“Come on, Laurel, baby, please pick up,” he was mumbling under his breath. Shado stood behind the older man, her brow furrowed in concern.  
  
“He’s tough, but he’s got a soft side too. He thinks he hides it well”, said Oliver softly. “Quentin is a friend. And an ally. Sometimes-“ he paused. “Sometimes I wish I could tell him about my identity.” Oliver smiled wryly. “Although, I think he already knows…”  
  
“Plausible deniability?” Shado’s lips curved ever so slightly.  
  
The phone continued to ring and then finally, voicemail. Oliver could hear Laurel’s faint voice, “Please leave a message”.  
  
Unexpectedly, Quentin threw the phone across the room. “What’s the point?” Lance snarled at no one. He reached for the bottle…  
  
“No, Quentin,” Oliver pleaded to no avail. Mist bloomed from nowhere and Quentin Lance was gone.  
  
“Shado!” Oliver called out. Sadness was turning to anger. He hated seeing his friends, his family miserable, terrified, or worst of all, dead.

Shado walked soundlessly towards Oliver over an expensive Italian marble floor. He looked around himself, but did not recognize it. Tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling displayed a view of Starling City, lights twinkling in the gathering darkness.  
  
Abruptly, Oliver found himself standing face to face with his best friend, Tommy Merlyn. “You never believed in me, not when I was a kid, not now!” Tommy was shouting, his face dark with anger.  
  
“No, Tommy, that’s not true! How could”– Oliver stammered. And then was speechless as Tommy walked right through him, like Oliver was a ghost. He noticed then the earpiece in Tommy’s ear and realized that his friend was talking to someone on his phone.  
  
“I can handle it. I can be the CEO this company needs. But the last thing I need is you second-guessing me at every turn! And besides, you’re going to be pretty busy rebuilding Starling City into a shining example for the whole world, aren’t you?” Tommy’s handsome face was distorted by anger. “Gotta convince everyone you’re their savior, right? Well, where were you when I needed you? I was a little kid and Mom was dead and you abandoned me!” Tommy was silent for a moment and then he seemed even angrier than before. “You may have fooled the voters of Starling, but I know who you really are!” Another pause. “No, I think I know exactly who I’m dealing with.”  
  
There was a beep and the call was ended. “Screw you, Dad,” Tommy said with quiet ferocity.  
  
Oliver turned at the sound of a door opening and closing. Laurel. She walked in wearily. She flung her briefcase at the couch and made no attempt to pick it up when it missed. Placing her arms around Tommy’s shoulders, she tried to kiss him, but he pulled away from her embrace.  
  
Laurel frowned. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”  
  
Tommy went to the bar and poured himself another scotch. The bottle was nearly empty. “I had a little ‘chat’ with my father. I think you can guess how well that went.” He drank deeply, nearly draining the glass.  
  
“Tommy, you can’t let Malcolm get under your skin. He’s just looking for any excuse to think the worst of you”-  
  
“Jesus, don’t you think I know that?” Tommy retorted, indignant. “It’s been a really stressful day, and I needed to take the edge off.” He went back to the bar.  
  
Laurel followed him and took the bottle of scotch before Tommy could pour another. “How much have you had? Maybe you should take it easy”-  
  
Tommy’s jaw set and he shouted, “So now you know better? You don’t know how hard”-  
  
Laurel’s face grew dark with anger. “Other people have it hard too! I work every day to help people struggling”-  
  
Tommy laughed, a harsh bark. “Please! As if there’s anyone left in the Glades to help!”  
  
Laurel stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “How dare you,” she whispered, her voice brittle with anger. She flung the bottle of scotch into the fireplace. There was a crash and a burst of flame.  
  
Tommy whirled on Laurel. “What the fuck, Laurel? That was a 40 year old bottle of”-  
  
“Fuck the scotch, Tommy! And fuck you! I don’t know who you are anymore!” Tears welled up in Laurel’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.  
  
Mist swallowed them and Tommy and Laurel faded away.

Oliver clenched and unclenched his jaw. “What the hell is this? If you’re trying to cheer me up, well, you’re doing a crappy job.”  
  
“I’m not doing anything to you, Oliver,” said Shado gently. “These are your fears, your nightmares, your guilt. You are filled with so much turmoil and your mind is trying to find a solution. You need to make peace with your past so you can move forward.”  
  
“I am moving forward. I’m trying to help this city, save people”, insisted Oliver.  
  
Shado tilted her head to one side. “How can you save anyone if you won’t save yourself? You live life as though you’re under a death sentence. You abandon your feelings on an island and push away those closest to you.”  
  
“You mean Felicity.” Oliver folded his arms across his chest.  
  
“You love her, don’t you?” asked Shado.  
  
Oliver sighed, looked up. “Of course, I do! But the life I lead is dangerous -“  
  
“You’re so full of shit.” Shado had now crossed her arms. Oliver was startled at her profanity. “Felicity knows it’s dangerous. And has that ever stopped her from helping you, supporting you in any way she could? Felicity is not some fragile flower you need to shelter from the world!”  
  
“I couldn’t bear it if she – if she died. I can’t lose anyone else.” Oliver’s chest felt tight and he swallowed.  
  
Shado moved closer to him. “And if you die? What about Felicity? Do you really think you’re protecting her by shoving her away? You’ve suffered enough at the hands of others; stop torturing yourself. You deserve some happiness too. Yes, the life you’ve chosen is dangerous and unpredictable. She’s a grown adult and she chooses to fight by your side. Honor her choice and don’t push her away. She loves you.”  
  
Oliver turned away. “It’s just that…it’s so unfair. You are – were – the first woman who cared about me for who I am. Not the shallow billionaire playboy. You saw in me the potential for…for something better.”  
  
Shado stood in front of him. “And you have done that. You have grown up and aspired to be better, to do right by those you’d wronged in the past. Don’t throw all that away out of fear.”  
  
“But you were killed because of me. I can’t bear to do that to someone”- Oliver stopped, afraid to finish.  
  
“To Felicity,” Shado said. “You are not responsible for my death. Being on the island was dangerous. There were so many ways I could have died. And while I did not get to choose how I died, I at least lived the way I wanted, with purpose and dignity.”  
  
Oliver hung his head, defeated. “Shado, I’m done. I don’t want to see this anymore. Please, I can’t take this.”  
  
Shado was once again at Oliver’s side. “Not yet. There’s one thing left.”  
  
Oliver closed his eyes. “Felicity.”

“Here, kitty, kitty,” a woman’s voice called out. The street was dim, periodically lit by flickering street lamps. Oliver watched as a woman walked down the sidewalk, stopping to crouch down and peer under parked cars, clearly searching for the missing cat. She finally stepped into a pool of light under a street lamp and Oliver saw the ponytail swinging, light briefly glinting off the glasses. He exhaled, not realizing that he’d been holding his breath.  
  
“There she is,” said Shado softly.  
  
In the distance, Oliver noticed a van that had been parked, engine running, began to creep forward, following Felicity. He felt his heart begin to pound and suddenly he was right in front of Felicity. She was wearing a well-worn sweatshirt with a faded MIT logo on the front, yoga pants and sneakers. One of them was untied. Oliver thought she was gorgeous.  
  
“Where are you, you stupid cat?” Felicity sounded tired and annoyed. “You are way more work than I anticipated, Mr. Errol Feline.” She sighed. “Look, just come out and I’ll give you tuna, even though it grosses me out. Maid Meowian misses you.” She looked up at the sky, her shoulders drooping. “Guess she’ll have to rescue herself from the wicked Sheriff of Barkingham.” Felicity took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “God, I sound pathetic. I really need to stop talking to myself.”  
  
At the sound of tires rolling on pavement, Oliver turned to see the van he’d noticed earlier roll up to where Felicity stood on the cracked sidewalk.  
  
“Hey,” a voice called from inside the vehicle. “Need some help?”  
  
Felicity straightened up, and leaned forward a bit, trying to see who was in the van. “Oh, no, I’m fine, just looking for my cat. I have two, Maid Meowian and Errol Feline, kind of a Robin Hood theme, you know. But Errol is the one who ran away. It’s a play on Errol Flynn, who played Robin Hood in an old movie, you know, a pun. I like puns.” She realized that she had been babbling and abruptly stopped. Her hand crept up to her neck and began fiddling with her necklace.  
  
Oliver was alarmed and stood before Felicity. “You need to get out of here right now, you’re in danger!”  
  
But Felicity seemed to be completely unaware. Oliver turned around and walked towards the van. “Whoever you are, you’d better leave.” Oliver’s voice got deeper and more menacing. “Or you’ll be sorry.”  
  
But the man in the van took no notice of him. “Hey, that’s cute. I’ll help you look for your cat. It’s not safe to be out alone.” He parked the van and got out. As the stranger came into the light, Oliver felt his chest tighten. Shoulder length stringy brown hair, glasses, stubble darkening his face. Barton Mathis. The Dollmaker.  
  
“No!” Oliver tried to block him. But Barton simply walked right through Oliver.  
  
Felicity began backing away. “No, thanks, I’m good. I don’t need help. In fact, my phone is buzzing, and oh look, it’s my boyfriend, and he’s on his way right here to come help me look. Did I mention my boyfriend is really tall and strong? He’s a police officer…” She turned and walked faster.  
  
Mathis began following her, his longer legs bringing him closer and closer. Felicity started running and Mathis quickened his pace. He reached his hand out and was almost on top of her.  
  
“Help!” Felicity screamed. She stumbled on the jagged pavement and tumbled to the ground.  
  
Oliver couldn’t stand it. “No!” he shouted once more, his voice ragged with fear. He put himself in between Barton Mathis and Felicity, even though he knew it would make no difference. Instead, Oliver staggered as Mathis ran headlong into him and fell backwards.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” the Dollmaker snarled.  
  
Oliver smiled and he curled his fists. He felt his bow in his hand and he raised it, pulling an arrow from his quiver in one fluid motion, aiming it right at Barton Mathis’ chest. “Your worst enemy, Dollmaker. I’m here to stop you.”  
  
Mathis looked perplexed and angry. “No one’s stopped me so far. And you’re not going to stop me now, freak.” Then he launched himself at Felicity.  
  
Oliver released the arrow and it struck the Dollmaker in the chest, knocking him down. Oliver turned to check on Felicity and found her standing, staring at him, her mouth half open.  
  
“Who”- she stopped. “Who _are_ you?”  
  
Oliver took a small step towards her. He pushed back his hood. “My name is Oliver Queen. And I love you.”  
  
Her eyebrows went up. “Oh.” Then she frowned slightly. “I thought you were dead.”  
  
Oliver found himself grinning. “So did I.  
  
The now familiar fog began blooming about Oliver and he sensed Shado standing next to him. “It’s time to wake up now, Oliver,” she said. Oliver looked into her eyes, searching for something.  
“I wish – I wish you didn’t have to go. You’ve helped me so much.”  
  
Shado smiled at him. “You helped yourself. You know who you are now. A brother, a son, a friend, a lover: they are all parts of the same man: Oliver Queen, the Arrow. Now go. Live. Be happy.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips briefly against his cheek. “Wake up, Oliver.”  
  
He smiled back, and felt tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, a sharp, pungent odor invaded his nostrils and he felt his throat constrict. He was blinking rapidly and began coughing. What was that smell? Was it…ammonia?  
  
“Wake up, Oliver!” He heard a voice in his ear, fearful and urgent. Not Shado. “Felicity?” Oliver wheezed. His vision began to clear and he saw that he was in the van, and it was slowing to a stop.  
  
“He’s waking up, Dig!” Roy’s voice sounded relieved. The van finally stopped.  
  
“Oliver! We’re back at the Foundry.” Diggle’s worried face swam into view. Then he was blinded by a bright light. “Jesus!” Oliver hissed.  
  
“Good, your pupils are dilating. You almost certainly have a concussion, but it’s good that you’re responding.” John smiled, but his eyes were worried.  
  
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Oliver rasped, a faint lopsided smile on his face.  
  
Roy snorted at Oliver’s gesture. “A sense of humor? Maybe you ought to get hit in the head more often.” The doors of the van were flung open suddenly.  
  
“Oliver?” Felicity stood, silhouetted. Oliver struggled to sit up.  
  
“Whoa there,” Diggle cautioned. “Take it easy, let us help you out. We had to get you out of there in a hurry, the SCPD arrived a lot quicker than we expected, and you got stunned by one of their flash bangs.”  
  
Oliver furrowed his brow. “Did you use…smelling salts on me?”  
  
“We needed to make sure you weren’t slipping into a coma. We weren’t sure how badly you were hurt.” Oliver met Roy’s eyes. _I’m ok, little brother._ Roy nodded.  
  
“We’re just going to move you to the fainting couch now,” quipped Felicity, but she couldn’t mask the concern entirely. “Masked vigilantes have such delicate constitutions.” Oliver took her hand and she and Diggle eased Oliver out of the van. They walked slowly down the corridor to the lair. Upon opening it, Lyla was waiting for them, baby Sarah cuddled up against her shoulder. Lyla held up a hand and said, “Look, Diggle told me what happened and I thought I should help”-  
  
“Please,” Oliver interrupted gently. “After everything that’s happened, it’s good to be greeted by friendly faces.” He smiled at little Sarah, and the baby returned it shyly.  
  
“Besides,” Diggle added. “Who’s she gonna tell?” He winked at Lyla and Sarah.  
  
They all moved further into the lair. The computer screens provided a cool blue light, glinting off some tinsel someone had draped over the fern. Ok, that Felicity had draped over the fern. He felt like he couldn’t stop grinning. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from the smelling sa– ammonia. But maybe it was something else…  
  
Felicity’s voice brought him back to the present. “Roy wanted to get a tree but it’s getting a little crowded in here, so…”  
  
“It’s…lovely.”  
  
Paper cups were being passed around and Diggle handed one to Oliver. “Eggnog. Lyla’s grandmother’s recipe.” He grinned. “For medicinal purposes.”  
  
Oliver took a sip and his eyes opened wide. He whistled. “Wow. That’s”-  
  
“Delicious?” Lyla regarded him with some humor.  
  
“I was going to say potent. But that too.” Oliver took another sip gingerly.  
  
Felicity handed Oliver his phone. “You have messages from Thea and Barry. I thought you’d want to hear them sooner rather than later.” She paused and then added, “I didn’t listen to them, don’t worry.”  
  
Oliver opened his voicemail. Thea first.  
  
“Hey Ollie, it’s me. Just wanted to know where you are. ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ is on TV and I thought you might want to watch it with me? I haven’t watched it since I was a kid. I’ll get the popcorn this time. Okay, call me back. Love you.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Oliver whispered. He thumbed down to Barry’s message. There were some strange muffled noises and then a loud clatter and a muted muttering that was likely a curse. “Sorry, Oliver. I dropped my phone.” Oliver suppressed a laugh. Classic Barry. “Hey, it’s Barry. I just wanted to, you know, check in and see how you were doing. Holidays were always hard for me growing up, because of my folks and what happened, and well, I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you and I hope you’re hanging in there. I was lucky to find good people who supported me through everything and I hope you know that you’re not alone. You’ve got good people too. Wow, this message is a lot longer than I intended. So…Merry Christmas, I guess? Take care.”  
  
Oliver put the phone down. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He felt a lightness that he hadn’t felt in, well, years. Yes, there were still dangers to face, but they would always be there. The difference now was that he didn’t feel so overwhelmed and hopeless.  
  
He looked up and surveyed his team. His friends. Diggle had his arm around Lyla’s shoulders and Roy, now divested of his costume and clad in his signature hoodie, was holding baby Sarah and making goofy faces at her. She shrieked happily at him. Felicity was seated at her computer terminal, her face intent. Oliver walked over to her.  
  
Without looking up at him, Felicity said, “Just checking in with Quentin Lance. They got everyone and the guns and money. The SCPD sends their thanks. And he hopes you are ok.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched out her arms, cracked her knuckles. “I told him you were all hunky dory.”  
  
Oliver grinned lopsidedly. “Thanks.”  
  
Felicity reached in a drawer and brought out a small, wrapped item. “Merry Christmas,” she said, handing it to him.  
  
He was surprised and started to protest.  
  
“Please,” she said. “Just…open it.”  
  
Oliver removed the wrapping paper and saw it was a book. It was an old book, the corners well worn, spine beginning to crack in a few places. On the cover was an illustration of a man dressed in green, leaning on a bow, gazing intently into the distance. He was in a forest, surrounded by more green clad men. Robin Hood, by Paul Creswick. Illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. Of course. Oliver smiled wider. He opened the cover and saw writing on the endpaper. Neat cursive lettering: “This book belongs to Felicity Smoak.”  
  
“I found it at a garage sale when I was a little kid. I would read anything. I liked the pictures because they were so bright and colorful and exciting. Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Maid Marian.”  
  
“Maid Meowian,” Oliver whispered.  
  
Felicity gave him an odd look. “What?”  
  
“Nothing. Please go on.”  
  
“Anyway, it was a fun escape when things got…hard.” Felicity smiled up at Oliver. “Guess it’s a little ironic. I seem to have a thing for guys who dress in green and shoot arrows.”  
  
Oliver took her hands and raised her up. “Makes perfect sense to me.” He cupped the side of her face in his hand; he felt Felicity tense briefly, then relax against his touch. “Felicity, I’m done running, done with pulling away. You’ve never held back from me, you’ve always told me the truth. It’s time I did the same.”  
  
Felicity regarded him, an eyebrow raised. “Wow, I should have hit you in the head months ago. God knows I was tempted many, many times.”  
  
Oliver laughed out loud. “I know, I’m a pain in the ass. But I’m ready now”-  
  
She sighed, exasperated. “Just shut up and kiss me already!” But she smiled when she said it.  
  
Oliver needed no further encouragement. They kissed, softly at first, then they pulled closer as the kiss became deeper, more intense. Oliver wanted it to last forever.  
  
“Finally!” Felicity giggled as she heard Roy in the background. Oliver grinned and kissed her again. Somewhere, he thought he could hear Shado’s voice, saying, “Attaboy, Oliver.” He felt truly happy.  
  
“I’d like to propose a toast.” Oliver and Felicity, arms still wrapped around each other, turned to listen to Diggle. John raised his paper cup and everyone did the same.  
  
“To Oliver Queen. My friend…my brother. The richest man in town.”


End file.
